In The Dark
by FanfictioningFangirl
Summary: "There's a boy in the dumpster, Michelle tells herself again, with bruises on his chest and back and a wild look in his eye." Michelle spots a wounded Peter Parker in an alleyway and months later, she's still hanging out with him. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: In The Dark**

 **Summary: "There's a boy in the dumpster, Michelle tells herself again, with bruises on his chest and back and a wild look in his eye." Michelle spots a wounded Peter Parker in an alleyway and months later, she's still hanging out with him. AU.**

 **Disclaimer:** **I am not associated with Marvel and make no profit from any of what I am posting.**

* * *

 **Warning: Dark. Almost rape. Non-descriptive.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 1**_

There's a boy in the dumpster lying face down in nothing but his boxers. His chest rises and falls slowly, his breath coming out in wheezes and, for a moment, all Michelle can do is stare at him, rooted to the spot.

"Excuse me?" she says at last, because it's the first thing that comes to her head, and the boy's eyes fly open at once.

He pushes himself up, wincing at the movement, but sitting swiftly anyway and turns to stare at her. His eyes widen, and he seems to shrink away when Michelle takes a step forward. Like a deer in headlights, she thinks.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she says quietly.

He smiles at that. "No," the boy agrees. "I didn't think you would."

There's a boy in the dumpster, Michelle tells herself again, with bruises on his chest and back and a wild look in his eye. She thinks he might be a bit mad. She thinks she might be a lot madder for talking to him.

He turns away from her, and picks up a schoolbag Michelle hadn't noticed before. He pulls out a long sleeved shirt and deftly puts it on, without wincing or revealing even the slightest pain.

"Sorry about that," he says, grabbing a pair of trousers next and pulling out a number of books and pens in the process. He doesn't pay heed to them as he tries to fit one leg into his jeans, hopping on the spot for a few moments before he manages to get it past his ankle.

He looks at her again, brown eyes boring into Michelle's. "Shouldn't have scared you like that."

She shakes her, then: "Should I be worried?"

That makes him grin again, and he takes a step towards her, bag dangling from one shoulder and his free hand in his hair. "Fear not, Ma'am," he says. "We're in the safest part of Queens."

Michelle doesn't agree, but she doesn't bother to contradict him. He's the one with cuts and bruises all over his back and torso; he should definitely be concerned for his safety more than hers. She leaves before the conversation continues.

* * *

He's there the next day too — the boy. He's standing with his back to her, school back dumped by his feet. He turns, as though sensing her arrival, and his expression instantly switches from one of apprehension to a warm smile.

"You're back!" the boy exclaims, running a hand through his hair. He takes a step forward, and then another until he's standing right in front of her.

"Yeah. You okay now?"

"Brilliant," he says. Michelle doesn't believe him.

She rolls her eyes, because that's what Michelle does, and takes a step forward. His bag's in one corner again, but nothing else is out of place. She wonders if he lives here. Michelle doesn't dare to ask.

"It's pretty late," the boy says. "Where you headed to?"

"Home." She falls silent for a moment. "Sorry, I don't know you yet and - "

He raises his hands in mock defeat again. "It's alright. I get it." The smile, again, then he tugs a hand through his hair. "Goodnight Ma'am."

"Goodnight." She's smiling despite herself.

* * *

He's not there on the third night, but there are three men webbed to a brick wall not far from her home. Michelle doesn't dare approach them. She's heard about the Spider-Man and the kind of criminals he catches. In the distance, a police siren wails. She walks home a little faster.

* * *

The boy is back on the fourth night, legs crossed and a cup of takeaway noodles in one hand. He looks up when Michelle peeps in, smiling broadly.

"Miss me?"

She rolls her eyes. "As if."

"It's late," he says, eyes fixed on her unblinkingly.

She should refuse again, she almost does. Then Michelle nods. "Yeah."

He's up in a moment, lifting his backpack and stepping into his shoes. He offers her the takeout, but Michelle shakes her head. It's one thing to let a stranger walk her home. She definitely isn't taking food from him as well.

"I'm Peter, by the way. Peter Parker." He takes another spoonful (forkful?) of his noodles, slurping them loudly. "It's okay if you don't want to introduce yourself yet."

"Thanks."

He beams, stuffs his mouth with more noodles and Michelle turns away.

"Do - do you live in the dumpster?"

That makes him snort, and then cough. Michelle thinks he might be dying with all thr coughing and slamming his fist into his chest. Then the logical part of her brain begins to function, and she smacks his back, hoping that will help.

The coughing stops and Peter Parker grins at her, his eyes watery and a noodle stuck to the front of his shirt.

"Nah. Just like it over there." At least he doesn't sound like he almost choked.

"That's not normal."

Peter shrugs. "I live two blocks down from here. With my Aunt."

"Oh. Don't you like it there?"

He shakes his head wildly. "Love it. She's the best Aunt in the universe. You'd agree if you met her. I just need to do something. For me and maybe for her too."

"Drugs?" Michelle asks because it's the first thing that comes to her head and would definitely explain a lot. Peter Parker seems amused though. "I'm not a fan of law-breaking," he says.

They're a few streets away from her home, and Michelle stops walking, looking at her feet and then at his shirt.

"We're here."

Parker nods. "Goodnight, Ma'am." He's gone before she can reply.

* * *

He walks her home almost every night after that. He never asks for her name or wonders out loud about why she makes him drop her on a different street each night. In fact, if he has any questions about her, they never come up.

Michelle can't say the same about herself.

She asks him about his bruises, and questions his decision to stay in the dumpster. She asks him about what he's trying to do too. He doesn't tell her much, but she doesn't stop persisting.

"Doesn't your Aunt worry?"

He shrugs. "She used to, but my friend covers for me on nights when I get particularly late." He pauses, slurping the coke he's brought tonight. "Plus, she won't notice much as long as my grades are perfect."

That catches Michelle by surprise. She isn't expecting her dumpster buddy to be smart. Though, then again, who is she to judge?

* * *

She's back again the next evening, peering into his dumpster alley, hoping that he'll be there but also hoping that he won't, when, for the first time in weeks, she's met with silence. No grinning boy or quiet music. She steps in, pulling her phone out of her bag and shaking it to turn on the flash.

He's on the ground again, back towards her and hair drenched in sweat. There's a long cut down his back and a pool of blood around him. Michelle stifles a scream, covering her mouth with her hand. Peter turns, wincing but smiling through the pain.

"Good evening, Ma'am," he says, and she doesn't know what to make of it. "I'm fine," he promises, sitting up, but there's so much blood on the ground that she can't bring herself to believe him. Not this time.

"Don't," she says, wrapping her fingers around his arm. "Stop lying and pretending like you're fine. I don't know what's up with you and what you do all day, but you've got to stop." She's breathing heavily, gripping his arm tightly. "You've got to stop, or you'll die."

Peter Parker smiles. "I don't plan on doing that anytime soon," he promises.

He eases her grip, on his arm, and then encases her hand between his, bringing it to his lips and kissing her fingertips.

"I'm fine," he promises, and Michelle almost believes him.

"Let me take a look," she says. Not that she knows the first thing about deep cuts and how to deal with them.

Peter Parker stares at her, blue-brown eyes fixed on hers. She thinks he's going to agree, but then he shakes his head, still holding her hand. "I'm sorry. I can't. Do - do you want me to walk you back?"

She shakes her head, pulls her hand away. He's a stranger. She hasn't told him her name or where she lives. He doesn't know the first thing about her and deep down Michelle knows it's the wrong to expect him to share his own story.

But it still hurts.

It hurts so fucking much.

"I'm good," she says, chewing on her lip. Michelle leaves before she changes her mind.

* * *

He's not there the next day or the day after. She tells herself to forget him and, yet, Michelle can't bring herself to stop checking. Just in case.

On the fifth day, a warm hand grabs her wrist, pulling Michelle into a different alley. He's in front of her - Peter Parker. His hood pulled up and a wild look in his eyes.

"I need your help," he says and, despite every curse she's sent his way in the past week, Michelle nods.

He makes her take him to McDonald's, and she watches in silence as he inhales three burgers and a coke. It occurs to Michelle that the story about an Aunt might have been a lie, though she doesn't dare bring it up just then.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he says once he's done. "Thanks a lot."

"Michelle," she says. "My name's Michelle."

She remembers the warmth of his lips when he kissed her fingertips, and it sends a chill down her back. Peter Parker knows nothing about her and yet, in moments like these, she feels as though she could trust him with her world. When he looks at her, Michelle thinks about kissing him.

She doesn't.

He waits outside the dumpster alleyway after that, backpack resting on his shoulders and looking like an excited puppy. She lets Peter walk her home because she feels safer that way, but also because she likes his company.

* * *

She gets late on her birthday: Michelle stops at the bakery to pick up a slice of cake and two plastic spoons for them to share and she's almost giddy with excitement because in her head, sharing cake with Peter Parker is way more romantic than it actually will be.

She holds the cake box with utmost care, purse dangling from one hand and a smile lighting up her face. Maybe she should have realised that everything was just too good to last.

She doesn't notice the shadow that follows her until a rough hand grabs her by the wrist, jolting Michelle sideways.

The cakebox falls, her purse is roughly pulled away from her and Michelle goes numb on the inside.

Then adrenaline jerks her back to the present, and she kicks and thrashes and screams, but the shadow is bigger and stronger than she is and pins her to the wall with surprising ease. She can feel his breath against her skin, his grip on her wrist disappears but she's still pressed against the wall. Something in Michelle dies.

This is the end, she thinks, squeezing her eyes shut. There's no going back from this.

Suddenly the weight is pulled off her, and there's a splutter and a slurp. When she opens her eyes, there's a man webbed to a wall and a masked hero standing inches away from her.

"You okay?"

Michelle nods then shakes her head, then nods again. She suddenly wishes Peter were here.

"Thanks," she says, her voice trembling.

And then she's wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder even though he's a stranger and smells of sweat and blood. He doesn't move for a moment, then slowly wraps his arms around her.

"You're safe now," he says gently, his voice so familiar it makes Michelle feel at home. "He won't touch anyone again."

When she meets Peter a few minutes later, he silently gives her a bag of takeout and slides his hand into hers, squeezing ut briefly. No questions asked and no complaints made. Michelle forgets to tell him it's her birthday, but she almost tells him about the Spider-Man who saved her life.

Almost.

They reach her home too soon. They've barely eaten the takeaway, and she hasn't said a word even though there's so much she wants to say./p

"I- " Michelle begins.

Peter shakes his head, slipping his hand out of hers. She misses the warmth as soon as it's gone. "I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers, and Michelle really hopes he will.

* * *

 **NOTE: I'm not usually one to delete and repost a fic but my previous upload of this got hit by some spam bots threatening to delete my fic and I guess I just didn't want to keep that up there forever. They're also the reason my old profile has disappeared.**

 **Advice for anyone being hit by the bots: DO NOT open their profiles. It allows them to modify your profile. More info on the Critics United forum!**

* * *

 **It's been a while, aye? Life sorta took over and I haven't read or written a lot recently.** **I wrote a draft of this a while ago when life was being shitty and fell in love with the rhythm of it. Doesn't help that the new footage from FFH had me screaming and I couldn't come up with anything new.**

 **Should have the second part up in a few days!** **Comments and criticism are always welcome!**

 **Love you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: In The Dark**

 **Summary: "There's a boy in the dumpster, Michelle tells herself again, with bruises on his chest and back and a wild look in his eye." Michelle spots a wounded Peter Parker in an alleyway and months later, she's still hanging out with him. AU.**

 **Disclaimer:** **I am not associated with Marvel and make no profit from any of what I am posting.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2**_

The woman's back at Delmar's.

She's wearing the same brown sweater and yellow skirt she's worn every day since Michelle first saw her and, selfish as it sounds, Michelle feels vaguely comforted in knowing that she's not the only one falling apart.

She's standing at the counter, taking her time with ordering and, though Michelle already knows what she wants, she loiters for a moment, staring at her.

The woman's phone rings and, startled, Michelle jumps back. The woman, who was probably in a bit of a daze too, squeaks, reaching into her bag and extracting her phone with quivering fingers. She fumbles for a moment, then presses the phone to her ear.

"Peter," she whispers.

Michelle freezes.

 _Peter._

There used to be a boy in an alleyway who would sleep there and eat there — a boy who would walk Michelle home at night, talking about everything and anything under the sun.

Then one day he disappeared, and Michelle could never figure out why.

She stares at the woman, inching closer because bizarre at it is, she dares to hope that Peter ( _her_ Peter) is back.

"Stay there," the woman is saying now, tears streaming down her face. "I'm coming home."

Michelle suddenly wishes she could follow.

* * *

She wakes up to screaming in the room next door.

Michelle's out of bed instantly, tip-toeing to the door and gently nudging it shut. She can still hear them, clear as ever. The walls of the Jones house are thin and, even when curled up under her blankets, there's little that Michelle doesn't hear.

She's up again, five minutes later, unplugging her phone and opening her messages. There's no one she talks to at school — nobody whose presence might calm her.

Her thoughts fly back to earlier that evening, in Delmar's. To Peter Parker.

She's missed the roughness of his palm and the scorching warmth of his fingers more than ever over these past few weeks. Hell has broken loose at home, and Peter Parker made Michelle feel safe in a way that people usually don't.

The shouting stops and Michelle closes her eyes; phone still switched on. She counts till seven before it starts again. This time her mom is screaming, her shrill voice piercing through that narrow walls.

" _What would the neighbours think,_ " she can hear her grandmother saying.

Her parents wouldn't care. They haven't stopped to wonder how _she_ feels about their nightly rows. Michelle doubts they've even considered the neighbour's opinions.

She sits up again, pressing her palms to her ears, rocking herself back and forth. Air, Michelle thinks, climbing out of bed. She needs air.

She picks up her hoodie from where she'd discarded it on the floor and, quiet as a mouse, opens her door and steps out.

It's funny how Michelle can barely hear them once she's out of the house. She pulls on the hoodie, hugging herself nonetheless to make up for the fact that her legs are freezing, and walks a little way down the road.

Months ago, she used to run down to the playground every night and would read on her phone till first light. Then the incident happened with the creep and the Spider-Man, and her courage fizzled and faded.

Now she rarely steps out after dark. Sometimes thinking about Peter Parker helped — whether it was deciding what to say to him the next day or reflecting on something he had done. Then Peter Parker disappeared too, and the little ray of hope that had stolen into Michelle's heart vanished.

Something shifts in the darkness and Michelle snaps back to the present, eyes wide and ears alert. She can't see a thing.

Regret steals into Michelle's heart. Regret and the fear that has grown familiar over the past few weeks. She clenches her hands into fists, hoping beyond all hope that it's nothing.

Someone appears at her side, and Michelle screams.

"Shhh!"

There's a hand on her mouth, and the shushing sounds vaguely familiar. She stops screaming, and the grip slackens.

"Peter?" Michelle asks hopefully.

Silence.

"Who are you?" She reaches for her phone, pressing the home button. The dim light of her screen illuminates the space around her, revealing the masked hero standing in front of Michelle.

More silence.

She can hear her heart hammering against her chest, and Michelle's ears are still ringing from her scream.

"You're safe," he says quietly, nodding at her.

"Yeah," Michelle agrees. She's nodding back, imitating him, until it occurs to her that they probably look like a pair of bobble-heads. They both stop. This is fucked up, she thinks, but it's distracting, and she always welcomes a good distraction, especially at times like this.

"Sorry for sneaking up on you like that," the Spider-Man says.

She starts to nod again but stops herself. "Yeah. It's okay."

"You — Why — Why are you out so late?"

He sounds familiar. Home-like, Michelle thinks. Creepy mask and weird costume included, she likes the hero who watches over Queens. She trusts him.

"I just needed some air."

"Oh." He straightens up. "Wanna walk?"

It doesn't occur to Michelle to disagree.

She takes him to the preschool park. It's a ten-minute walk, maybe, and for the most part of it, neither of them say a word. There's still so much on her mind, and Michelle finds comfort in just knowing that she's not alone.

Plus, she reasons, digging her hands deeper into her hoodie pockets, what do you even talk to a fucking vigilante about? Saving people? Beating people up? _Webs?_ She scoffs at her own chain of thought, daring a glance at the Spider-Man. He's hugging himself, arms crossed over his chest but still gripping his body. She supposes a hoodie might ruin the vibe he's aiming for.

Michelle chuckles to herself, again.

This time the Spider-Man notices.

He looks up, his masked face tilted in her direction. "You're — Are you okay?"

"Brilliant," she says, not knowing whether or not she means it. "You don't have to do this, you know. Walk me around and stuff."

The Spider-Man shrugs. "It's a peaceful night. Queens isn't usually this silent."

"How do you know? That it's peaceful, I mean."

She can't see his face but by the way the black of his eyes crinkle, Michelle thinks he might be smiling. "I can feel when something's off," he says. They've stopped walking. "I hear some things, sense others. Like with you, tonight."

Her heart stops.

 _He knows._

He definitely knows.

Michelle's worked so hard to make sure that nobody at school as much as suspected and now this fucking superhero with his fucking super-senses knows.

A gust of wind blows against them and the Spider-Man shivers.

"Well I sure as hell ain't the only fucked up kid in Queens," Michelle whispers. Maybe she's hoping there are others. Perhaps they could make a club of teens whose parents fight every night.

He laughs this time. Outloud. "No. But you're the only one I know."

They don't know each other. Not really. "You're freezing," Michelle says at last.

He says nothing. Maybe the Spider-Man was expecting her to say something different. She could have talked about it, Michelle thinks. Told him everything she's ever wanted to say. Then again, she's kept it secret for so long Michelle doesn't think she could ever tell anyone the truth, especially not a masked vigilante who probably knows everyone's darkest secrets.

She pulls her hoodie off, tosses it at his face. "Thanks," Michelle says. "For everything."

The Spider-Man nods. "It's my job."

"Stick to it. We appreciate it." She leaves before he gets to nod again.

* * *

There's a boy in the alleyway the next day, a shallow cut across his cheek and a broad grin plastered on his face.

"Hey," Peter Parker says, standing up.

Michelle pulls him into a hug before she can talk herself out of it.

* * *

 **Honestly, I thought I was going to give up on this but every time I try to write something else, I find myself back on In The Dark. I know how I want to end, and maybe even when I want them to fight but I've never been good at multi-Chapter fics so let's see how this goes? (If you have any ideas please share them)**

 **Sorry for the time jump. I was going to include more Michelle and Peter bonding but it felt very filler-y which tends to frustrate me.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


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